Nancy Gideon's Blog, page 4

WeWriWa: A Whole New World, HER TEXAS HERO

Time to get back to the business of writing. I’ve been in a slump of indifference, binge-watching TV shows for months. The thing that’s increasing isn’t my word count, it’s my “chair cushion.” I can’t figure out what the problem is. I LOVE the book I’m working on but the passionate need to get back to the business of writing it just . . . isn’t there. Have you ever had that happen? If so, how did you break through that wall of passivity?
I’m trying to get the creative juices flowing again, hoping that the increasing unfriendliness of Michigan outside in November will do the trick. We’ll see. I pretty much hibernate from Thanksgiving until Spring begins (or is supposed to!) in April. That’s prime keyboard time . . . and this year, I’ve been wasting it in favor of a tawdry relationship with Netflix.
So . . . it’s butt in chair, hands on keys, and back to West Texas for my WIP. Just the thing the heat up these endless dreary days.
If you’re in need of a mini-vacay, here’s a mini-escape to the dry heat of West Texas . . .
 The Excerpt 

San Antonio popped up as sudden as a jackrabbit, surprising with both its size and rough edges. One of the oldest Spanish settlements in Texas and among its largest cities, in the final decade of the century, it was quickly transitioning from frontier town into bustling metropolis.

While history still shrouded the battle-scarred walls of the Alamo, the city itself was quickly becoming a popular winter resort spot for those in colder climes. Department store windows flourished, tempting cautious eyes that still kept a watch for raids from outlaws or Indians. Stylish beaus paddled their parasol-shaded lady friends along the wall of the river while horse- or mule-drawn streetcars allowed passengers to hop on and off to shop along Houston Street. Even with its own fire department, newspaper, brewing company, and vaudeville theater, one would be wise to remember that the safety of civilization was as recent as the pinch of new shoes.

Watching the bustling comings and goings along that rutted street, Martine was suddenly aware of her situation. Alone, in the company of two young men she didn’t know. Garbed in a patchwork of unsuitable clothing on the edge of what would become a new and, at the moment, frightening life.

Yee Haw! Just what I needed to jump-start this long idle mental block. Time to make use of that hour we reclaimed last week with a cup of coffee and a long overdue session at the keyboard!
How’s your writing coming? Are you troubled by the Change of Season Blues?

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
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IWSG: A Crafty Devil – Non-Writing Creative Endeavors

What?! There’s more to life than just writing!?? I guess I’m walking, talking, crafting proof. And it started BEFORE I was able to construe a sentence on paper. Before I wrote, I spun verbal stories at bedtime to delay the inevitable after lights out. My middle sister and I shared a room. At night, after our mom finished our nightly tale from one of our library books, we would lie awake, imaginations churning. And because I had a healthy fear of the dark in our creaky old house, I’d make up stories about heroic sisters who fought off monsters. But my creativity spread far beyond just whispered stories. And I have my mom to thank.
My mother was an occupational therapist at our local State Hospital (the grim place mentally impaired patients were kept before we knew what to do with them). She taught arts and crafts part time while my sisters and I were in school, so naturally, we were expected to excel in them. Imagine her frustration with an ambidextrous daughter who knit with both hands equally. I learned to sew by hand and on an ancient machine and to do needlepoint. I could cook up a storm for family and friends. When I declared I was going to become an author, she said, “That’s nice, but what are you going to do for a living.” One did not make a living from words and make-believe stories, so Mom insisted I find a profession that would incorporate what I loved. I’d become a teacher. But that took years, and I only had so much money available for college. I could be a journalist, but I was too shy to initiate interviews. Then one of my professors echoed what my high school English teachers told me - that I was the best creative writer they’d ever had. I should be writing books – in a time when there was no mass market for fiction, no career ops for someone spinning stories.
But I never gave up. Notebooks of hand-written pages stacked high while I went to insurance school but hated sales. I got a job with an attorney that spun into a profession. With my photographic memory (my superpower!) I could find any file in our office and detail the case practically verbatim. I loved finding out our clients’ backstories by doing dictation on their cases.
And during my lunch hour, I wrote. Every. Day.
And I still do, 80 published books and many partials later. When my attorney retired from the office so did I. I became what I’d dreamed of becoming – a fulltime writer – who still LOVES to cook, sew, knit, do word and picture puzzles while putting together the pieces of my next novel.
Life is a creative adventure and I’m enjoying it!!

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time. The awesome co-hosts for the November 6th posting of the IWSG will be are Diedre Knight, Lisa Buie Collard , Kim Lajevardi, and JQ Rose!
Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!
Twitter hashtag is #IWSG
 Click Here → 
To join the IWSG Blog Hop and view the List of Hop Participants!
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WeWriWa – The Romance of History, HER TEXAS HERO

Nothing stirs the hearts and minds of a younger generation like the tribulations and triumphs of their elders—especially when they’re raised in the shadow of a father’s larger-than-life deeds. Randall Bass has HUGE boots (or rather moccasins) to fill. His father was not only a dime novel hero but a true legend the likes of which he could never attain. How’s a restless son supposed to forge his own path in a land already tamed? The Excerpt 

(Excerpt from Dana Ransom W-I-P, HER TEXAS HERO)

By the time Rand remembered to blink, popped wide eyes had glazed over in awe. In his relatively short number of years, he’d taken in some amazing sights from painted hills and deserts to soaring skyscrapers in New York City. But none had spoken to him with the seditious lure of San Antone’s canal.

Romance whispered through the trailing willow branches that brushed across cuddling couples as their boats drifted down the river. Determination shimmered up from once blood-soaked soil where freedom had been won at a terrible price in the ruined shell of an abbey. The kind of life-altering history Rand longed to affect, if time . . . and his parents . . . would allow it. To be part of the changes being forged by sheer force of will. To be revered in song and the sighs of dreamy-eyed girls.

To become half the man his father was.

Opportunity shivered to Rand’s soul. Here, in this vibrant young Texas city, he could find what his wandering soul desired. The chance to step from the shadows of his famous kin to claim his own destiny.

If his momma didn’t tan his hide before his daddy peeled it off him!

I’m having such fun on this return ride with the Bass family. Now, to get the first five books of the series reissued for new – and old! – readers. Yee Hah!
Happy cooler Fall days and deep-starred nights just made for reading in bed!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
Nancy on the WebBlog | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://nancygideon.blogspot.com//pla...

WeWriWa: The Kindness of Strangers, HER TEXAS HERO

As you know from last week, I’ve been sheltering a small black kitty who has taken up residence under a bush in our back yard. As much as I’d love to give her an inside home, we’ve already got three cats, my sister’s nearly blind old dog, and my adult son sharing our space. Mush that I am, I’ve ordered an outdoor cat shelter for the little girl since it’s going to drop into the forties at night. Though I’ve been feeding her regularly on our patio, I’ve yet to actually pet her. Slow but sure when it comes to earning trust . . . an adage that fits in nicely with my W-I-P where my two young heroes have rescued a mysterious young woman from a bad situation. Here’s a new snippet from HER TEXAS HERO . . .

 The Excerpt 

Carson Bass circled around the guttering fire to plop down on his cousin’s bedroll. While Rand incited agitation, he inspired a sense of calm and comfort that allowed Marti to return a faint shadow of his easy smile.

“We got two rooms at a hotel in town. Real nice ones,” he quickly added to relieve any misgivings. “Whilst we take care of the horses, it’d be no trouble a’tall if you’d care to use one of ‘em to freshen up ‘fore you see your family, and maybe get yourself something pretty to wear.”

What could she say—that she’d worn nothing but plain novice garb since being abandoned in the desert prison when little more than a child, that she’d given her last coin to the monster who’d stolen her innocence?

Carson’s deciding nod was followed by a firm, “We’ll put you up in one of our rooms whilst we find a shop girl to bring over some ladies’ things for you to pick from. Your family expecting you at any particular time?”

Since she wasn’t expected at all, Marti managed a faint, “I was going to surprise my father.”

Surprise was an understatement. There was a good chance he’d have her shipped back to the convent before the two cowboys finished their first night on the town.

Looks grim indeed for our heroine, but at least she’s found herself a couple of good-hearted rescuers in the Bass cousins. Will that good will last when they discover the truth behind her situation?
And speaking of rescuers, I’d better check on my outside guest – or is it guests, since cats have started popping up out of the bushes – including a large black and white fellow that showed up LAST summer for some TLC. From the look of him, that care was put to good use in someone’s home. If it was up to me, I’d have a cat door installed on the patio slider. I know, what a mush.
I’m off to head outside to enjoy this glorious fall day . . . and maybe make a few four-legged friends . . . right after reading your excerpts!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
Nancy on the WebBlog | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://nancygideon.blogspot.com//pla...

WeWriWa – Superstitious Superstitions

I’m now a busy stepmother to a little lost cat that I want to adopt.
Last weekend a small black kitty showed up on our back patio. Although I already have three cats, all of them orphaned or abandoned and now incredibly spoiled, I’m planning to take in one more. Though she loves the food and fresh water, the waterproof shelter on our porch and watches us with interest, I have yet to get close enough to pet her. But I won’t give up.
In my efforts to ingratiate myself to this little creature, all else fell away. Until I turned on my computer this morning. Another post due already? Ahha! It reminds me of the scene I used in last week’s post! So, how about a bit more of that?
Excerpt from HER TEXAS HERO . . . The Excerpt 

“You don’t look like no Martin I ever met.”

“It’s . . . it’s a nickname from when I was young.” Sharing that minute personal detail had her tensing again, waiting for him to push for more information. But apparently satisfied with that small piece, he leaned back on his elbows and stretched exquisitely tooled boots that no hand-to-mouth wrangler could afford toward the flames. She’d taken a first sip from the still hot brew when he casually advanced his curiosity.

“Got someone waiting on you in San Antone that’ll be worried?”

“No,” she admitted before caution gave her a cold shake. She offered a tight smile and added, “Not at an exact time, that is. My father has a townhome there. He’ll be watching for my arrival. And,” she added quickly as an incentive, “will be very grateful for your assistance.”

( . . . and a bit more . . .)

Frown lines creased his expression. “You got the wrong idea, ma’am. I weren’t hinting for no reward.”

A delicate brow arched. “You don’t believe he’d think I was worth it?”

A quick blink, then his low, rumbling laugh did funny things to her insides as he drawled, “Just spoiling for a fight, ain’t cha?”

I’m looking forward to reading your posts – even if I’m outside trying to tame a wandering kitty with tasty temptations . . . much to the ire of the other three glaring at me through the slider. Then . . . to convince those three that they want to increase their group to four.
Hopefully this little black cat will bring nothing but good luck!!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
Nancy on the WebBlog | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://nancygideon.blogspot.com//pla...

IWSG – Superstition

My favorite time of year – crisp air, blazing tree leaves, cool nights for sleeping . . . and superstitions creeping. I LOVE me some Halloween. The scary stories, the decorations (of which we have BOXES!), the spooky and the silly movies (of which I have an entire shelf!).
Two day ago, I got totally distracted from everything else by a small black cat who showed up on our back patio. A beautiful kitty with huge yellow eyes. Though I already have three cats, all of them orphaned or abandoned, I started planning to take in one more. But the kitty had other ideas. Though she loved the food and fresh water, the waterproof shelter on our porch and watching us with interest, I have yet to get close enough to pet her. But I won’t give up. Because there’s nothing worse in my book than a lost, lonely cat who is hungry and afraid (unless, of course, it’s a child).
So in my efforts to ingratiate myself to this little creature, all else fell away. Until I turned on my computer this morning. How could it be the first Wednesday of the month already? Mia culpa!!
Looking forward to reading your posts – even if it’s outside in the cold trying to tame a wondering kitty.
Happy Halloween in advance. Let the decorating begin!!

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time. The awesome co-hosts for the October 1st posting of the IWSG will be are are Nancy Gideon, Jennifer Lane, Jacqui Murray, and Natalie Aguirre!
Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!
Twitter hashtag is #IWSG
 Click Here → 
To join the IWSG Blog Hop and view the List of Hop Participants!
Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group
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WeWriWa: An Uncommon Kindness, HER TEXAS HERO

I’m taking a trip to the heat of Texas as a crisp, wet fall settles in. I’d LOVE this time of year if it just stayed dry as well as cool. Buuut in Michigan, we tend to get all four seasons in a random rotation from October to April. Today (Saturday, as I write this), it’s the blooming of autumnal colors beneath threatening rain clouds. A good day to stay inside and work on the W-I-P and to share another snippet from my WIP Dana Ransom historical, HER TEXAS HERO . . .
 The Excerpt 

Slitting her eyes open, Martine saw him sitting cross-legged on the other side of the fire, hands warming around a cup of strong-smelling coffee. His pale stare likewise heated at finding himself the subject of her attention.

“Hope I didn’t wake you, ma’am. Was trying to be quiet.”

“Y-you didn’t.” Was that hoarse rasp her voice? “I’m sorry . . . if you told me your name I’ve forgotten it.”

“Not surprising, ma’am, as we weren’t formally introduced. It’s Randall Bass, and the one snoring over yonder is my cousin, Carson.” He didn’t ask what he should call her, thankfully willing to give her time to offer that up when comfortable enough to do so.

(. . . and a bit more . . .)

A shiver rippled through her. From lack of appropriate clothing and delayed shock after all that had happened, Martine guessed while struggling to sit up. Her rescuer started to offer a helping hand then quickly caught it back before he alarmed her. An unexpected kindness from a Texas-bred man. His dark head nodded toward the cup in his hand.

“Sorry to say this is the last of the coffee. Expected to be in San Antone today, so we didn’t bring extra. You can finish this up to warm you . . . if you don’t mind the sharing.”

A near-hysterical laugh caught in her throat. As if the swapping of a little spit with a stranger would be the worst thing she’d exchanged. She drew a deep breath and forced a poor semblance of a smile.

“I appreciate the kindness, Mr. Bass, and I don’t mind at all.”

“Randall,” he corrected quietly as he slowly moved the cup toward her, “and just Rand is fine. What can I call you?” He didn’t ask for her proper name, again with that uncommon sensitivity.

“Marti,” she whispered, taking the tin with a cautious brush of fingertips, noting his were rough and warm . . . and as gentle as his tone.

“Careful, it’s still hot,” he advised as a grin creased his tanned face, releasing a devastating amount of natural charm, “but if you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t look like no Martin I ever met.”

I just love these characters and they’ve been waiting for far too long to have a finished story that will endcap my favorite historical series. Launch book, TEMPTATION’S TRAIL, is still my go-to for a satisfying read, and hasn’t aged a bit since its release in 1994 – one of the perks of writing historicals. The characters are every bit as fun and frustrating as they were from day one.
Sorry, got to be going. My characters don’t want to be left out in the cold, and I’ve got other blogs to enjoy (but don’t tell them that!).

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
Nancy on the WebBlog | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://nancygideon.blogspot.com//pla...

WeWriWa: Back to the Keyboard with HER TEXAS HERO

You don’t realize how far removed you’ve gotten from the things you love until you open your WIP and see the last entry was over a month ago. And that was to do some editing, not to create new material. Michigan Romance Writers to the rescue! Our off shoot of the former ROMANCE WRITERS OF AMERICA is still going strong with monthly meetings both in person and virtual but the highlight has always been our writing retreats. In July, I got back to the business of writing theeeeen slowly tapered off until my early morning hours at the keyboard were more for scrolling than creating paragraphs. I just couldn’t get BICHOK (butt in chair hands on keys) to create new words. The solution – an escape from that harsh reality with a writers weekend on the other side of the state with four other enthusiastic wordsmiths. Three days in a rental house on a wooded lot near Lake Michigan. Let the creating begin . . . on my historical western romance. Here’s a NEW sample from HER TEXAS HERO . . . The Excerpt 

Cool night air stroked across her cheek, coaxing Martine toward a reluctant wakefulness. Pain was the first thing to greet her, an exquisite agony battering every inch like a mixing spoon in a batter bowl. Fear came second, in a quiver of frantic alarm.

Where was she? What was she doing outside on the ground . . . and what had happened to inspire such spikes of dread and misery?

Instead of forcing her eyes open against the swelling determined to seal them shut, she reached out with her other senses to get an idea of her surroundings . . . and, unable to rely upon her tattered memories . . . with whom.

…and a bit more . . .

Then, circumstances came back in a brutal tide. Circumstances that crushed her spirit but didn’t explain her situation.

She was tucked into a quality bedroll by a campfire that cast warmth upon her face. A slow inhale filled in the blank of memory. Of cotton shirt and warm male. Of the young black-haired cowboy who’d caught her up in protective arms and quieted her with reassuring words.

“You’re safe. I gotcha.”

Over 30 new pages in three days (and that’s after reading the 90 already written to get up to speed . . . and still going strong since I got home. Now . . . to keep up with that habit of forward progress!
What have you found gets you out of a writing rut?

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
Nancy on the WebBlog | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://nancygideon.blogspot.com//pla...

WeWriWa: Born in the Swamps under a BAYOU MOON

After sinking my teeth into vampire lore from 1994 to 2002 with my “Midnight” paranormal romance series, my Pocket editor wanted me to jump to a fresh new series in the WooWoo-verse. My thoughts immediately seized upon something more hot-blooded. Something on two legs AND four. Not a werewolf, but a sexy shapeshifter protector in New Orleans. Though I ended up with my multi-book “By Moonlight” series, that’s not where I started out. Here’s a glimpse at my first shapeshifter project, BAYOU MOON . . . The Excerpt 

“If it’s justice you after, it’s Reule Arnoux you wanting to see.”

Those words brought a shiver of reluctance when Shannon Harper had first heard them. They sat no easier now as the shallow pirogue slipped along glassy bayou waters, propelled by the leisurely dip of a single oar.

Shoving damp hair from her brow, she asked, “How much farther?”

“Up dare apiece.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just drive?”

“You cain’t get dare by da roads. Only way be through the bayou, same way folks been coming for generations.” 

The man’s whispery tone gave her a sudden chill. “Generations? What do you mean by that?”

“Only dat dare been one of his kind out dare where no roads can reach dem, where only those who need dem know where to go.”

( . . . and a bit more . . .)

His kind.  She didn’t know whether to laugh or tremble. If her guide was trying to scare her . . . it was working. “This Arnoux, is he some sort of bayou vigilante?”

“He be da law, da only kind we believe in.”

“But what can he do? I mean, he’s just one man—” 

When the boatman glanced over his shoulder, something in his expression dammed the rest of her words in her throat. Hairs prickled along her arms with the same chill she’d experienced as a little girl when warned by gruesome stories of the swamps and what happened there to the unwary and unwise. Was she being both?

“Lady, you be smart not to axe too many questions. Reule, he might not want to see you. He don’t like to take up for your kind, but since you kin to Douvee . . . we see what we see.”

Lafayette wasn’t Detroit. She’d been away so long, she’d forgotten the microcosm of distrust and ignorance of the isolated swamplands she no longer thought of as home.

It was crazy what she was doing, crazy and against everything she worked so hard to uphold. Under normal circumstances, she never would have considered taking such a step outside the avenues of law and order.

But nothing had been normal since she’d gotten her paternal grandfather’s letter stating that her father was missing, would she come?

I’d only written three chapters and a brief outline as requested by my editor. With fingers crossed, I sent it off . . . and waited. Sometimes, a swift response isn’t in your best interest. It wasn’t in this case. Nothing negative but no positives either. The series idea wasn’t “Big” enough for what she had in mind. Could I try something else? Could I? A closed window isn’t a closed door. I was on the hunt for a new bigger idea set in a more complex world of the paranormal. The hunt was on . . .
This project never went any farther. But the new one . . . that’s another story! I can’t wait to hear yours!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
Nancy on the WebBlog | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://nancygideon.blogspot.com//pla...

IWSG – Rules Made to Be Broken – by Me!

September 4th question – Since it’s back to school time, let’s talk English class. What’s a writing rule you learned in school that messed you up as a writer?
That’s an easy one! Complete sentences. (I love starting out with an example!) I discovered in elementary school that I was a writer. I LOVED playing with words. And as much as teachers encouraged my prose, they frowned on breaking the rules. Especially, that complete sentences one. (See what I did there?). By fifth grade, and up through my English with Writing Emphasis honors degree, my papers were used as examples of vivid writing – and dodging the rules. I blame Batman. Pow! Bam! Biff! Nothing like a short, punchy exclamation to elevate the heart rate. Even in college, as an English major, my work was used (anonymously!) as examples of quality prose, but also for its rule breaking. Newspapers, both local and university, always wanted me to do feature interviewing for them, but I was too shy to make the person-to-person connection. Page-to-Person, now that was altogether different.
When I first published, the incomplete sentence continued to haunt me. I love me a one-word sentence. Boom. Attention grabbed. Copy editors jumped on them, but by the time I built a track record (and garnered a few awards), they let them slip through. Warning: Short, punchy sentences need those flowing, expository sisters to hang out with them for balance and emphasis. And flavor.
What rules have you bent or broken?

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time. The awesome co-hosts for the September 4th posting of the IWSG will be are are Beth Camp, Jean Davis, Yvonne Ventresca, and PJ Colando!
Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!
Twitter hashtag is #IWSG
 Click Here → 
To join the IWSG Blog Hop and view the List of Hop Participants!
Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group
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